Resolutions
by TeddyMo
Summary: A possible outcome of the aftermath of Frame and all the angst preceding it.
1. Chapter 1

**_A.N. -- This is something that's been rattling around in my head for quite awhile, but work has gotten in the way of my actually getting something down on paper. I wasn't going to publish anything until I had more written, but decided to put the first chapter up to keep myself motivated, as nothing annoys me more than reading a good story on FF only to find it's been abandoned half-way through (Rindy, darling, where is Holding Court??). This is just my imagination running overtime again in Goren's World ---- a "what if" scenario. Since I'm on vacation this week, I hope to get another chapter or two down before Monday, and right now, I'm not sure how long this will turn out to be. All of my mistakes are my own. As always, I own nothing but my own desire to see Bobby and Alex have a "happliy ever after". _**

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Sunday, a dreary, gray and misty day. Goren lay sprawled on his oversized sofa, drifting in that out of focus, twilight world preceding a drop into exhausted sleep -- a state that had eluded him over the several days following Declan Gage's revelation that he had first prodded Nicole Wallace into killing Goren's brother, and then, unbelievably, unimaginably, had managed to somehow take Nicole's life in turn.

After Gage confessed, Ross had marched into interrogation with two uniformed officers, proceeding none too gently to hoist him from his seat, snapping the cuffs on and advising him of his Miranda rights. Gage had started laughing after announcing to Goren that he was now "free", and continued to do so, almost hysterically, while Ross gave him over to the other two officers to walk him through the bullpen back to the holding cells to await arraignment. As the laughter faded into the distance, all Goren could do was stare, wide-eyed, into the space where Gage had been sitting, rubbing his hands over and over the leather of his binder, totally unheeding of the tears streaming down his face, a series of fine tremors running through his body. He didn't notice or respond as Eames, who had followed Ross into the room, gently lay a hand on his arm, softly repeating his name, over and over, "Bobby? Bobby --- " His next true awareness came several hours later, when he woke to find himself lying in his own bed and his partner sleeping in the oversized armchair next to it, wrapped in a blanket and sound asleep herself.

His restless movement woke her, and she moved from the chair to sit beside him on the bed. After asking him how he felt, she explained when he didn't respond to anyone and just kept staring and crying, they had called Dr. Olivett, who after hearing what had happened, determined Goren was suffering from a severe emotional shock and had administered a mild sedative. Ross, returning after getting Gage started through the booking process, had rounded up a couple of burly patrol officers, who had gotten Goren downstairs and into a patrol vehicle, following Eames in the SUV to his apartment, where they helped her put him to bed. Fueled by nights of little to no sleep, devastated by the effects of the events of the past several weeks and especially the past day, the medication served to put him out for nearly eighteen hours.

Although he was still somewhat shaky, Eames had coaxed him into the shower and then into eating a slice of toast and drinking a cup of tea. While he was in the shower, she called Dr. Olivett, who arrived while they were still sitting at the table. Too tired and drained to protest, Goren had accepted Dr. Olivett's presence, and they talked quietly for an hour while Eames left to go home to shower, change and pack a bag. She had stayed with him several days, talking, seeing that he ate something, taking him for long walks and to his appointments with Olivett, being with him while he slept and when he just wanted to be quiet. She had returned to her own home that afternoon, after he finally managed to assure her that he would be all right alone and he would call her in the evening, which he had done. And tomorrow, they would go back to work, and life would go on -----

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She stood on the other side of interrogation, watching and listening in horrified silence as Declan Gage admitted to having manipulated Nicole Wallace into killing Bobby's brother, and then had himself murdered Wallace, disposing of the remainder of her body only God knew where. Even though she and Bobby had pieced together most of what must have happened, it was still an enormous shock to watch and hear the ease with which Gage admitted to the conspiracy. After a protracted late-night-to-early-morning discussion punctuated by long periods of silence during which she could do nothing but be there with him, offering her presence as prop for him to lean on, trying to help him hold his shattered psyche together until they could get Gage in to 1PP to confront him with what they knew, it was all up to Bobby now, and how he had found enough strength to keep himself together to finish the nightmare they were living was something she could only admire from this distance. At some point, she had stepped as closely as she could to the mirror, hoping that Bobby could feel her support flowing through the concrete and glass separating them; and when the tears started running unheeded down Bobby's face and his composure, already fragile, nearly broke when Gage admitted he had egged Wallace on to murder Frank, she had had to press both hands over her mouth to keep from crying out in rage and punching her fist into the barrier between them. She remained like that, seemingly unaware of her own tears on Bobby's behalf and Ross's presence behind her until he gently laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "That's enough of this -- torment. I'm going in there and put the cuffs on him." Only then did she let her hands drop to her sides, drawing in a shuddering breath as she nodded, then watched as Ross entered the room next door and took Gage away with the help of two uniformed officers. Quickly wiping her face, she followed Ross out of the room. During the entire course of the ordeal she had just witnessed, Gage's words kept playing over and over in the back of her mind – _"You care for your partner. Deeply" ----- _

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Two weeks later, Goren and Eames were leaving a robbery scene at one of the city's more "posh" residential buildings, already discussing a theory that there really was no robbery, but an attempt to collect insurance monies for the supposed theft of the wife's jewel box, their skepticism based on recent rumors that the husband had lost huge amounts of money in the real estate market and during the on-going credit crunch.

Nearly all of the unease that previously existed between them, mainly due to outside influences and interference beyond their control and the resulting misunderstandings had dissipated, and things were better than they had been for quite some time. For his part, Goren was both awed and humbled by Eames' steadfast loyalty during the time when it seemed he might be responsible for the deaths of his brother and Nicole Wallace; not only was he grateful for her support and insistence he had nothing to do with their deaths, but even more for the fact that it made no difference to her whatever that his biological father had been a serial rapist and murderer. He was indebted to her in so many ways, for so many reasons; he had known since her maternity leave that he was in love with her; but he would never be able to offer her anything that she deserved, especially now that he was barely able to make ends meet himself. More than the dread he experienced when he had the DNA test done, and his loathing at the confirmation that his suspicion was fact, was the fear that one day she would go, and never come back. However, despite his conviction that it would be in her best interests to run, not walk away, and never look back, he couldn't bring himself to make her go, and consequently spent a lot of time berating himself for his selfishness in holding on to her.

Arriving back at 1PP, they had just walked into the bullpen when Ross, seeing them enter, rose from his desk and called to them from his office, beckoning them to enter. Looking at each other with "what now" expressions, they dropped their coats onto their desks and headed over to obey the summons, wondering at Ross's implied urgency in not giving them a chance to settle in first.

Walking in, they found Ross leaning against his desk, arms folded across his chest. "Shut the door behind you, Goren," he said as he gestured to Eames to sit down. Indicating to Goren that he should also have a seat, Ross looked from one to the other for a minute before continuing. "I honestly don't know how to say what I have to tell you ----- "

Quickly glancing at each other with some apprehension, Eames looked back at Ross and said, "Just tell us, Captain." Goren waved his hand, palm upward, indicating Ross should continue. Ross sighed deeply, looking at Eames as though trying to warn her to be prepared for something. She held Ross's gaze for a few seconds before giving him a slight nod, once again glancing at her partner from the corner of her eye. Taking another deep breath, Ross went on, "You know they've been holding Dr. Gage in protective custody at Riker's, because of his background in law enforcement." Looking from one to the other, but not giving either of them a chance to say anything, he said, "They found him in his cell this morning --- " A low, gasping moan interrupted him as Goren covered his face with his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Eames immediately rose from her seat, crouching in front of Goren, wrapping a small, strong hand around each of his wrists. "Bobby ----" Turning to Ross, she asked, quietly, "How?"

"Apparently the guards didn't do too good of a job searching him, probably because of his age and health. He managed to smuggle a cyanide capsule in with him."


	2. Chapter 2

She had taken him once again to see Olivett, whom Ross called when he stepped out of the office to give them some time and allow Goren a chance to compose himself. This time, she had insisted he come home with her and he had agreed with more alacrity than had become normal during the past couple of years, which she took to be a sign of the renewal gradually taking place in their personal and professional lives. On the way to Rockaway, he admitted to her that Gage's suicide was not totally unexpected, nor was it out of character for Gage – "He knew he was slowly losing his grip; he wouldn't have wanted to live the rest of his life under a mental handicap, and besides, he was the master of the flamboyant, grand gesture and the ultimate control freak."

"Where would he have gotten his hands on a cyanide capsule, though?"

Goren shrugged. "If he didn't have it from those days in Korea, he still had enough Bureau and CIA contacts that he could have gotten one easily enough." He sighed, resting his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. "Well, I guess I'm really rid of all of the 'dead weight' now." Not knowing what to say in response, she simply rested her right hand on his thigh, gently squeezing, in a gesture of support. She was pleasantly surprised when he covered her hand with his own, and they remained that way until she pulled into her driveway.

Even though Ross had offered them the following day, both felt it would be better to continue to work their assigned case and keep busy, deciding if they weren't able to make at least some progress they would simply ask for a few hours of "lost time", which they felt certain Ross would permit. By midday, they had received the reports from CSU indicating there were no fingerprints anywhere near the bedroom safe where Mrs. Grant kept her jewelry except for hers and her husband's, a finding that essentially meant nothing as it was to be expected that the Grants' prints would be all over their own residence. "At least," Eames snarked, "they weren't stupid enough to _wipe_ their prints."

They had just decided a break away from their desks and a light lunch would do them both good when an expensively dressed man entered the bullpen and headed for Ross's office, where Ross met him at the door. Entering the office, Ross shut the door behind them and proceeded to pull the blinds, but not before they recognized him as Gage's attorney. Exchanging a long look between them, they silently reached a decision to linger for awhile, organizing their files and trying not to look too obviously as though they were waiting and watching for something. They didn't have long to wait, as fifteen minutes later, Ross's door opened, and he requested them to also come into his office.

Shutting the door behind them, Ross gestured them to seats and said, "You remember Mr. Fredericks, Detectives." Nodding, Eames responded, "We do, Captain. To what do we owe the honor?"

While Goren and Eames were settling into their seats, Fredericks balanced his briefcase across his knees, opened it, and withdrew an large, manilla envelope. "I am here, Detective Eames, to carry out the last instructions from my deceased client, Declan Gage." He extended the envelope to her. "This is for you."

Stunned, Eames simply looked at him for a full minute, before moving her gaze to Goren, who could do nothing but gaze back, every bit as stunned as she was. Recovering first, he indicated his own confusion by a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. Turning back to Fredericks, Eames dropped her eyes to the envelope he was still holding out to her, which she then tentatively took and held for a further few seconds before she opened it, extracting the contents. "It's a letter addressed to me."

"It is," Fredericks intoned solemnly. "My instructions were to deliver it to you in the presence of your partner, Detective Goren, and your Captain, Daniel Ross, with a request that you share its contents with them." At that, her head snapped up, and she looked around at each of the men in turn before pulling the letter completely from the envelope and beginning to read it through to herself, silently. As she did so, she first paled, then flushed as the contents and its implications became clear. Concerned, Goren leaned over, placing his hand on her knee and tilting his head to the left so he could look into her face. "Eames?"

"I --- I'm OK, Bobby." She lifted her head, raising her eyes to his, and as she did so, their gazes locked. "I – I'm just ---- _surprised,_ that's all."

Ross, who up to now had remained silent, watching the drama play out before him, spoke quietly. "What does it say, Eames?"

Staring at the papers in her hands distastefully, holding them almost at arm's length, she looked up, not at Ross but at Goren. 'It says he's leaving his entire estate – to me."

**_A.N. -- This just seemed like a good place for a break, and a little more explanation was warranted to sufficiently 'set the scene' for the rest. More to come, hopefully very soon --- TM_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_A.N. -- Whoa !! This has been raging around wanting out for so long, it's practically writing itself. I thought John Glover made a particularly 'creepy' Declan Gage, and hope I've done his portrayal justice. All mistakes are mine, and you can't have them. -- TM_**

Whatever they expected from Gage, it certainly wasn't that, and it showed in the looks on their faces and the utter and complete unbroken silence that engulfed them. After allowing a few minutes for the revelation to sink in, Fredericks cleared his throat and said, "Essentially, that is correct, but there are – reasons – for Dr. Gage's decision to dispose of his estate to Detective Eames." Turning to her, Fredericks gently touched Eames' arm, causing her to pull her gaze away from Goren with some difficulty to look at him. "Detective, you need to read them the letter."

Looking down at the papers she still held in her hands and then back at Fredericks, Eames said, "Why did Gage want this done here, with Bobby and the Captain?" Before he could respond, Goren's soft voice cut in, "Because Dec --- " he stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing on, '—always liked an audience, especially one of his 'peers' so he could show them how much smarter he was than the rest – and because he wanted the Captain to be absolutely certain I was never involved in his – his --- schemes." He paused again, resting his elbows on his knees and examining his hands intently. Catching Eames' eyes once more, he went on, "He's still doing things for me, to 'protect' me," not quite keeping the bitter note from his voice. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes with his left hand, a characteristic gesture of stress. "Read your letter, Eames."

Watching him for another few seconds with concern, Eames finally looked back at the letter she still held in her hands. Clearing her throat, she began to read, "My dear Detective Eames --- "

"_My dear Detective Eames_ ---

_As I am sure you are aware, I use the term "dear" loosely, as 1) you are not 'dear' to me, and 2) as I am sure you are also aware, I do not like you. Please do not take this personally, as I really don't care much for women in general, except as a means to fulfill the baser instincts of man's nature. In any event, whatever my own personal feelings are on the subject, I recognize that you are very dear to Bobby, and he to you – _Eames could feel her face reddening at this point – _'and for that reason alone, I never wished you any harm. Indeed, your loss would have been a blow from which Bobby would never have recovered, and because of the consequences to Bobby alone, I regret my daughter's actions. Having had no real use for the woman I called my wife aside from the stated and obvious, I also paid as little attention to Jo as possible when she wasn't the son I craved, and didn't notice she was more of a "chip off the old block" than even I realized.' _Here, she and Bobby exchanged puzzled looks, but after a second or two, Bobby indicated she should continue to read.

'_That being said, I suppose I can understand the attraction Bobby has to you. You are very much like his mother, or what his mother would have been like had she not been afflicted – small, intelligent, stubborn, and fiercely protective of those you care for." _At this point, she stole a quick glance at Goren -- he was once again examining his hands minutely, but she noticed the tips of his ears had turned an almost neon shade of red, as had her own cheeks --- "_However I might feel personally, I have no doubt that you will do whatever is in Bobby's best interests, despite whatever protests he may raise, and without any ulterior motive other than your desire to secure Bobby's well being and peace of mind. Also, you are pragmatic, and can set aside your own feelings for a greater good, whereas Bobby, while a brilliant profiler (even better than I, much as I absolutely hate to admit it) has a bit of a tendency to let his emotions cloud his judgment in personal matters." _Here she paused, blinking rapidly to clear the film of tears from her eyes, realizing that Gage was right, at least in this regard --- if she did nothing else with this money, she could clear Bobby's debts and get him back on his feet financially. While nothing could make up for what Gage had taken away from Bobby (and if she were _really_ honest about it, she was at least somewhat grateful that Gage had eliminated the burden of Nicole Wallace from Bobby's life), her practical, thrifty, what's-done-is-done Irish soul felt that he owed Bobby at least _something_ for all the grief he and his daughter had caused him. She continued on ---

"_Bobby's first and only tendency would be to torch everything. You, I am positive, will serve as his voice of reason, particularly as I believe my journals will prove to be of exceptional interest not only to Bobby, but to my 'colleagues' from other agencies. I hope that one day, the two of you will work together to edit and publish their contents." _She paused to turn the page, thinking, _'well, we'll see about THAT, you raging egomaniac—'_

"_Thus, my not-so-dear Alexandra, because Jo has no need of it and Bobby won't take it, I leave all in your hands, and take my leave of this world. I know you will make sure Bobby, the son I always wanted, is taken care of, and as I told him (and I am sure you heard me do so from your vantage point on the other side of the 'looking glass') I am nothing to him now but dead weight, and thus better gone for his sake. I know you will not act rashly, nor allow him to do so. Aside from my journals, what you do with the rest of my estate is entirely up to you. Keep it, give it away, leave it sit and gather dust. It is no longer my concern."_

She folded the sheets, slipping them back into the envelope. Refusing to meet the eyes of any of the men watching her, she asked, in a barely audible voice, "How much ----?"

Fredericks rose from his seat, picking up his briefcase as he did so. "I have already entered Dr. Gage's will to probate, and I am the named executor." He handed Eames a card. "Please have your own attorney contact me once you've had a chance to assimilate this development, Detective." He walked to the office door, opening it, before turning to once again face the room's occupants. "Oh, after taxes, Dr. Gage's estate is in excess of $2.5 million." With that, he left.


	4. Chapter 4

**_A.N.-- I always liked Ron Carver. And I always suspected that he had the teensiest bit of a sneaking little crush on Eames -----_**

After Fredericks left, the silence among the others was so tight it almost rang. After a minute, Goren got up and he too left the room, before Eames could say anything. He didn't stop at their desks but headed for the men's room at the back of the squad. She watched him go helplessly, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Ross rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll go check on him in a minute, Eames," he said. "But are you all right?"

She nodded, slowly. "I will be, Captain, once I've had a chance to – 'assimilate this development', I think is how Fredericks put it."

Ross's lips twitched at the remark. Eames was all right; her snark was intact. "What are you going to do?"

Eames sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at the floor. Looking back up at Ross, she said, "I'm going to take care of my partner, Captain. Gage ripped away the next to last family member he had left; God knows if Donnie will ever turn up. At a minimum he owes Bobby the chance to dig himself out of the financial hole he's in." She shrugged. "It won't even come close to making up for anything, but at least it'll relieve some of his stress. And then," she said as she started for the door, "we're going to find out what's so _exceptionally _interesting in those journals of his. Try to find Donnie. Figure out what we can do with that money," she turned to look at Ross just before she left the office, "because no way am I keeping it."

A smile ghosted across Ross's face at her words. "I'll go check on Goren."

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In the men's room, Goren leaned over the sink, not sick but just needing to get away to himself for a few minutes. He knew Eames would be worried about him, but he needed to get his thoughts in order and this was one place she wouldn't follow him – at least, not immediately. Turning the tap on, he splashed some of the lukewarm water over his face, wondering how much effort it would take to talk her out of what he knew was in her mind regarding him, and whether it was even worth the attempt, given her nature and his own lingering emotional exhaustion. Gage had pegged her pretty well in his letter – _small, intelligent, stubborn and fierce._ All that, and so much more.

He was drying his face and hands when Ross came in. "Detective, are you all right?"

Tossing the used towels in the waste can, he leaned back against the wall and sighed. "I'm fine, Captain. Somewhat shell-shocked, but ------ , " he raised his left hand, letting it fall again to his side. "It's exactly the sort of -- of --- , " he waved his hand in frustration, unable to come up with a word, "_thing_ Dec would do. He was right – I wouldn't take his money, and my first impulse would be to destroy everything else." Straightening, he scrubbed both hands over his face. "Uh – where's Eames?"

"She's on the phone at her desk. Detective," -- Ross said as Goren made for the door, "She's not keeping the money."

Goren stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and turned to face Ross once again. "I knew she wouldn't." He left the room.

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Hurrying to her desk, Eames made a quick phone call to confirm the person she needed to speak to was indeed available. Slipping into her jacket, she pulled out a file folder hidden in her bottom desk drawer, grateful she hadn't yet had time to shred its contents. What she needed to do was best done quickly, before Bobby could raise a protest and delay what was, to her determined mind, the inevitable. Scribbling a note that she had gone to the deli to pick them up some lunch and would be back soon, she sprinted for the elevator, wanting to be gone before Ross extracted Bobby from the men's room. _"It's usually easier to beg for forgiveness than ask permission", _she thought to herself.

Twenty minutes later, she was seated across from Ron Carver in the back booth of the deli three blocks from 1PP, having given him a nutshell version of the morning's events. Carver had left the D.A.'s office to join an old law school friend in private practice, and they did a good bit of estate work because it was quick and lucrative, providing steadier income than some of the other cases they handled. The file folder, along with the card Fredericks had given her, lay on the table in front of Carver, and he was as astonished by the turn of events as Eames had been earlier. While he and Goren had often been at odds with each other during Carver's tenure at the D.A.'s office, they held each other in respect, and Carver continued to remain in touch with Eames, calling periodically to inquire after them both. The last time she talked to him was when he called upon hearing of the death of Frank Goren. "Detective, I read the article in the morning paper about Dr. Gage's passing, but I would have expected him to leave his estate to Detective Goren rather than yourself."

In response, Eames pulled Gage's letter to her from her pocket and passed it to Carver. Reading it quickly, he nodded his head. "Well, I can certainly understand the logic in Dr. Gage's decision. What can I do to help you in this matter?"

"Deal with Fredericks for me. See how quickly enough can be made available to clear Bobby's credit union loans and credit cards, and pay off any balance at Carmel Ridge, and do it. It won't make up for anything Gage has done, but at least Bobby will be able to get back on his feet. All the information you should need is in that folder. As far as the rest of the estate, all we really want are Gage's journals --- they can be delivered to my place in Rockaway. If Frederick's the executor, he should already have an inventory – if we can get a copy of that, we'll let you know if there's anything else we'd at least want to look at." She paused. "I have no intention of keeping any money for myself, Mr. Carver. And Bobby, I know, would never touch it. But I'm sure we'll be able to come up with some way to make use of it, to benefit others." She smirked and added, "And I don't care what your fee is -- since it's coming from Gage's money. Might as well spread the wealth."

Carver studied her carefully from where he sat. He had always admired this diminutive, spunky woman with the heart of a lioness, and he knew how much she meant to Goren, however carefully he tried to keep it hidden. He had also suspected Goren meant as much to her, and was glad to have those suspicions confirmed. "It's a lot to refuse, Detective. And likely to be more, given that Dr. Gage's books continue to sell and the royalties are still coming in. Sales may also increase due to his passing." He paused as she began to shake her head. "You and Detective Goren could be secure for the remainder of your lives."

"No. No way, Mr. Carver. I couldn't." She paused to take a sip of her coffee, making a face at finding it was now lukewarm. "I think Gage was laughing at me from the grave, trying to drive a wedge between Bobby and me by proving to Bobby that I too would live down to Gage's expectations of women. It didn't take a genius to see he was jealous of my -- friendship -- with Bobby. And, I would always feel that I had benefited from Bobby's misery. But Bobby – " here she paused once more, drawing in a deep breath, "Bobby would always feel that it was blood money."

"But won't he feel that way now?"

Eames sighed, dropping her gaze to her hands playing with the coffee cup. "The money's technically been mine since Gage died, hasn't it, Mr. Carver?" She raised her eyes to meet Carver's across the table.

He nodded, slowly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Technically, that is correct, Detective."

"Well, then, all I need to do is convince Bobby to see it that way."

**_A.N. -- This just seemed like a natural breaking point, since the next parts might be a little intricate to write. Enjoy --- TM_**


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